Brief sparks of fireworks.

All we do is make fireworks.

Here, like us,

for a moment.

Gone after a few

flutters of lashes.

Our hearts may be in it

all effort thrown forth.

But our hearts, our efforts

are weak, short-lasting.

The burst of light,

thunder-like boom,

a moment of wonder,

beauty that fizzles out,



Such great work,

resulting from hours of effort,

magnificent, awe-inspiring,

reduced to ash, dust, dirt.

But the stars.

If our work could only be

twinkling lights that shine for years,

not moving in the sky,

reliable, always,

lasting longer than we can dream.

If our hearts, our efforts would produce

stars, then we’d

be in a better place.

We’d affect change,

shine light not for a moment,

but for millions.

We wouldn’t need to train others

to build what we’ve built,

do what we do, because

what we’ve built,

what we’ve done

will always be there

for them to see.

“Look at that star,” we’d say,

pointing at a speck near the Big Dipper’s handle.

“That’s the light I created.

What will you create?”

But permanence leaves

no room for mistakes.

What’s done is done.

Your star will shine or

explode into a black hole that

sucks others in, wreaks destruction.

Permanent mistakes bring

permanent consequences,

no hope of salvation.

Stars may last, but

the brief sparks of fireworks are

quickly forgotten

amid thousands of other light explosions.

All we do is make fireworks,

but with our mistake-heavy efforts,

our easily-confused hearts,

a flash of light that soon disappears

may be a better result than

man-made stars.

Published by meredithsell

Freelance writer and editor. Nerding out over health & fitness, women's history, and untold stories.

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